


the gentling

by nise_kazura, pensee



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Brainwashing, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mindbreak, Mpreg, Omega Will Graham, Stockholm Syndrome, sex pollen essentially
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23318869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nise_kazura/pseuds/nise_kazura, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensee/pseuds/pensee
Summary: "You don't want this," Will says, fighting back arousal and flashing his teeth as his lip curls. "You don't know me.""I think I can decide what I want," the Alpha says. Neither of them mention the fact that Will never said thathedidn't want it. Neither of them have to.“And I know you well enough. You live alone, the nearest neighbor a mile away. While your pets are charming, they are no proper substitute for cubs, omega."-Will comes across a strange Alpha in the woods. Hannibal likes what he finds, and has no problem taking it as his own.-ON HIATUS-
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 20
Kudos: 334





	the gentling

**Author's Note:**

> a twitter thread got out of hand, and this happened, lol. enjoy!  
> \- kazu

A shift in the wind, and Will’s hackles rise. 

The dogs haven’t started alerting yet, but the omega in him knows there’s an unfamiliar scent out there (nearby, too near), something that smells like predator, _threat, fight or flight_ —

If it came down to it, he knows which he’ll choose, but this isn’t a stray coyote that’ll be cowed by an omegan growl (evolution intended to deter intrigued carnivores from carrying off defenseless cubs). This is an Alpha, the musk nearly overpowering though Will can sense no one in the immediate vicinity. 

Risking a sharp whistle, he says, “Home,” and the dogs’ ears perk up. They start off, but Lola skids to a halt the moment they emerge from their favorite thicket of low-hanging trees. 

In the clearing ahead of them is a dark shadow, the scent intensifying as the dogs whimper and shift from paw to paw, a low rumble building as they form a protective barrier around him and the stranger. He hisses at them, snaps his fingers so they’ll gather behind him instead—he needs to protect _them_ , it’s an omega’s job to guard their own—glaring at the intruding Alpha the entire time.

He snarls when the Alpha steps forward, heeding none of his warnings. 

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

The Alpha’s face is heavily shadowed, but when he treads closer, footfalls barely leaving depressions in the dry grass under their feet, Will can see him in better detail. 

He’s tall—most Alphas are—and lean like a swimmer, broad-shouldered and strong, he can tell at a glance. Lighter hair, maybe, a bunch of sharp angles to his face. 

_The shadows make him look like a skeleton, coming for me like a monster in a horror story._

Shaking the thought aside, Will repeats, “What the _fuck_ are you doing here, Alpha?”

“That’s hardly extending hospitality to a stranger, omega. Your patron should have taught you better.”

Formal finishing schools still existed, but since the late 80s, omega rights groups had balked at the sexist practice. The government’s concession was that omegas themselves, much like Alphas or betas, could name their own trusted loved one or mentor to become their patron, the person who guided them from adolescence to adulthood and versed them of their place in the world. Will had always hated the system—it was just another way to ensure societal control. 

There was nothing wrong with it upon cursory inspection. Omegas could choose their own patrons, after all, and patrons had to be others of the same sex, but patrons had to be older, educated, and reasonably wealthy, and ultimately ended up out of touch with those that were not. 

Will’s one saving grace had been that he’d slipped through the cracks in high school. After moving states so often, there’d been no one to guide him through home ec, how to best land himself a rich Alpha meal ticket, and all the other bullshit he was supposed to have been taught. He feels a petty surge of satisfaction that his lack of patron meant he apparently missed etiquette-while-addressing-Alphas lessons as well. 

“Didn’t have one, and you didn’t answer my question. What the fuck are you doing?”

“This isn’t private property.”

“True, but the state doesn’t look kindly on lawbreakers. You don’t have dogs and you don’t live around here. Whatever you’re doing out at midnight, anyone could tell you it ain’t good.”

“I’m looking for a place to bury a body,” the Alpha says, and Will jolts. 

He’s not joking. Oh, he said it casually and with a smile, as though he were expecting Will to take it as a joke, but Will knows better. 

“Whatever it is, take it someplace else,” Will snarls. Better to feign ignorance, call the cops in the morning. _Don’t let him know that you know._

The Alpha laughs. It’s a deep laugh, throaty. 

“You’ve caught me,” he chuckles. “It seems I’m lost.”

Bullshit. Even if he were, he could follow his scent back out to wherever the fuck he came from. An Alpha like him? Lost? Ha. The fact that he admitted it revealed the lie.

“Road’s that way,” Will points. “Don’t trip,” he adds, snide.

“You won’t show me the way?”

“What, big bad Alpha needs little old me to hold his hand? No.”

The Alpha seems amused. Will doesn’t like it—the casual overconfidence, the way the Alpha seems perfectly at home in _Will’s_ woods. Private property or not, this is his territory. His home. This is where he brings his pack out for a run, where he goes to be alone. 

“I guess I’ll be on my way then.”

Will narrows his eyes. Better not look the gift horse in the mouth. He slowly backs away, unwilling to show his back to the unfamiliar Alpha. 

Once he takes a step back, the Alpha steps forward. Will freezes.

“I said, road’s that way.”

“Your home is nearby, no? It will be easier to find the road once I’ve reached your house, rather than wandering through the woods.”

“Figure it out. Don’t follow me.”

_I don’t want you knowing where I live._

Just then, a breeze brushes past. The Alpha lifts his nose, closing his eyes, and takes in a deep, audible sniff. Scenting him. No doubt noting the trace of fear that lingers. An Alpha’s favorite scent.

Will bristles.

“Difficult to avoid.”

Meaning, _How could I resist such tempting prey?_

The Alpha steps closer. Will steps back. The Alpha gestures, inviting Will to carry on. 

Now that the Alpha has his scent in his nose, Will’s home is already compromised. He’s essentially trapped. He has two options here: break the façade and run, or play it cool. 

He notes the Alpha’s clothing: fastidiously gaudy. Clean, neat. Rich. Perhaps he can still rely on the Alpha’s mask of civility. 

He prays he’s not within the Alpha’s preferred victim type and lets out a sharp whistle, signalling the dogs, before beginning the trek back home, the alpha a silent shadow behind him.

* * *

“Here's the driveway.”

 _That leads towards the road and_ away from my house, Will doesn’t say.

“What a lovely place. It’s getting a bit chilly. You could perhaps spare fire and a drink.”

The Alpha didn’t seem to catch the not-so-subtle invitation to leave. Or, more likely, he did, but elected to ignore it. His shoulder brushes Will’s as he casually slides his way into Will’s home, politely holding the door open so that the dogs can enter as well. 

Will grits his teeth.

“I didn’t say you could come in,” he mutters.

“I wasn’t waiting for you to. Seeing as you’ve never had a patron, I didn’t expect you to know how to properly invite an Alpha into your home. That being said, patron or not, you must know how to pour a drink.”

Will debates the pros and cons of telling the Alpha to fuck off. Seeing as the Alpha probably wouldn’t listen, he grudgingly goes to the pantry. He makes sure to grab the cheapest bottle of whiskey he has, and just barely resists slamming it down on the table, where the Alpha has sat himself down, making himself quite at home.

Will doesn’t know how he’s gonna get this guy to leave, and it’s beginning to make him nervous. Everything about this sets his teeth on edge. The scent of a foreign Alpha in his home, so near his nest, so near his pack. The imbalance of power occurring within his own home, his safe place.

Will knows he’s strange. He’s always been strange. But there’s a reason why most omegas don’t live alone. It goes against their nature, against their need for physical comfort and pack bonding. He has his beloved dogs, but some days… Some days he can feel the ache inside him, wishing for a heavy hand on the back of his neck, firm fingers along the bottom of his spine. 

Stability.

Omegas require stability to be happy. And that’s something Will has given up on ever achieving, because it’s something he can’t provide himself. 

It’s this yearning that makes it difficult for Will to be around Alphas. He can control it at work—no one tries anything with him (no one _wants_ to) but… this Alpha. It’s hard to miss the way he watches Will, with that gleam in his eye, and it’s… affecting Will. It's been so long since he's been gentled, since he's been touched and cared for…

 _But it’s nothing I haven’t handled before,_ he reminds himself. _Get him to leave. That’s all you need to do. Leave, and then call Jack._

The Alpha smiles with his eyes, and then raises the glass to his lips. Will suppresses a shiver, eyes watching the way the Alpha’s throat bobs as he swallows.

“There’s hope for you yet, omega,” the Alpha says, and Will snarls at the title. 

“I have a _name_ ,” he says. “And it’s not _that_.”

“What is it, then,” the Alpha says, and it doesn’t sound anything like a real question. 

Setting the glass down on the table with a muted clink, the Alpha draws closer and closer, till Will feels his feet backing away to compensate for the limited amount of distance between them. 

_Alpha smells like whiskey, like the forest, like strength, and terror._

Will swallows the sudden flood of saliva in his mouth, fights the instinct to cower in the face of authority. 

_No, you’re not just the sum of your biology. You can’t—_

His slippery hand is reaching for the shotgun on the wall before he can think about it further. It’s grasping at straws, and he knows it, every part of him calling out to throw the gun aside, to not let anything get in the way of Alpha having him. 

To his credit, or maybe he’s just mad, the Alpha doesn’t blink as Will points the barrel of his weapon at him. 

“Now, now,” he says, chiding, and Will wants to claw his face off for that tone. “That’s terribly rude of you.”

“I think we’ve established that I’m not polite.”

“Yes. Fortunately for you, I’m a willing and able teacher.”

“You can’t teach this old dog new tricks to amuse yourself, Alpha.”

“I don’t know about that,” the Alpha leans closer, close enough that if Will breathed too harshly, he’d know what they’d smell like, together. “I’ll have you saying ‘please’ soon enough.”

Will wants to snarl at him. The _audacity._ But his hands are unsteady, his heart thumping hard against his ribs. What the fuck is wrong with him?

He bites his lip, backing up as far as possible. But that just corners him, and—

With a start, he realizes he’s wet. It's staining the wall; he can hear the wet sound the seat of his pants makes as he shifts nervously. His cheeks flood with heat, much to his consternation and the Alpha’s amusement. The Alpha reaches forward to brush a thumb along his flushed skin, fingers trailing down to his neck, poking beneath Will’s loose collar. Over his sensitive scent glands.

Will’s eyes nearly roll back in his head at the feeling and he gasps. The Alpha grips the gun by its barrel and tugs it out of Will’s nerveless fingers. 

"There's no need for this, my dear," he chides, as if speaking to a child.

"You don't want this," Will says, fighting back arousal and flashing his teeth as his lip curls. "You don't know me."

"I think I can decide what I want," the Alpha says. Neither of them mention the fact that Will never said that _he_ didn't want it. Neither of them have to.

“And I know you well enough. You live alone, the nearest neighbor a mile away. While your pets are charming, they are no proper substitute for cubs, omega."

Will does snarl this time.

"Getting ahead of yourself, don't you think?"

Two can play at a game. Will leans in, lips brushing the other man's jaw. The Alpha’s nostrils flare, his eyes dilate.

"To get that far, you'll have to catch me first," Will whispers.

He lets out a sharp whistle, and the dogs swarm the Alpha, growling and snapping, piling onto him. It only gives Will a moment, but a moment is all he needs—and then he's out the door in a dead sprint.

* * *

Hannibal smiles to himself, a bit boyish, a bit gleeful. What a wonderful surprise, though he can scent the omega's sharp, sweet scent easy as anything. It won't be much of a chase, but he'll pretend, for the omega's sake.

But if he underestimated Will too much, it would be the last mistake he makes. The Alpha may be stronger, faster. But this is the omega’s home turf. He could make his way through the woods with his eyes closed. He'll head to the stream first, hide his scent. And he won't run forever, either. He'll have to fight back, eventually. Defend the right to his territory.

 _And it'll be a bloodbath,_ he thinks, lips twisting. The Alpha clearly wasn't out here to pick night blooming flowers, and even if the omega had thought he was joking about the body he does indeed need to dispose of, he had been suspicious enough to override his natural biological urge to appease, suspicious enough to be hostile. 

Hannibal decides to give him a bit of a head start, debating whether to take the liberty of neatening the omega's nest before he leaves. If the omega somehow manages to evade him, he ensures that the poor boy won’t be able to forget him entirely, making sure his scent is intermingled with various parts of the room before heading out the door, sharp nose still able to pick up on the traces of scent the omega had left behind. 

It helps that his endearing band of mutts followed after their master, trailing canine musk that even a beta’s comparatively duller senses would be able to track. 

* * *

_You think you’re so smart, Alpha. You think I’ll just come quietly._

In this case, what the Alpha doesn’t know will hurt him, Will intends to make that unmistakably clear. 

Being a quick thinker all his life had offended those who thought male omegas were rare creatures meant to smile and primp throughout their long and sheltered lives, but none of those idiots ever needed to lay a trap to protect themselves from entitled Alphas who didn’t know how to take _no_ for an answer...

Will's a fisherman. But that doesn't mean he doesn't know how to snare—both involve bait. And Will knows his bait. He's upwind, and he's worked up a sweat. He probably reeks by now. It’s inconvenient—unless he figures out how to turn it to his advantage. 

He strips quickly by the stream before diving in and leaving his sweaty, stained clothing as a beacon for the Alpha to find, and waits.

He's always got a leatherman knife somewhere on him, and the blade is big enough to cause a lot of damage. Flicking the tool open, he tries his best to dull the noise. Calms his breathing. Listens. Leaves rustle nearby, but it's just the wind.

* * *

Hannibal tracks him.

It's easy.

Too easy.

When he hears the sounds of a stream gurgling nearby, he slows his footsteps. Tricky thing, water. It can take on any shape it needs. As it moves, so does the cooling air. Muddies the scent.

 _Clever thing,_ he thinks.

Will's waiting in the underbrush. He hesitates. Should he—fuck it. As soon as the Alpha turns his head away from him, he slips up behind, puts the knife up to the Alpha's throat. 

"I don’t care who you are, or what you want from me. _Leave_ _me_ _alone_ , or I'll cut you and let you fend for yourself with a severed jugular."

The stream may have washed away most of it, but Hannibal's nose is sharp. He can still smell it—the omega's slick.

He smiles at the threat. 

If something like that could deter him, he never would've gotten this far. He thinks the omega knows this, too.

He feels the omega's cock, hard against his hip, and he turns, grabbing him hard by the base. The omega yelps. The knife slips, though the omega makes a valiant effort to keep it pressed to his neck. 

"Just let go of it, darling. It'll make this next part easier."

Will tightens his grip.

"If you wanted things to be easy, you wouldn't be here."

He can tell, this Alpha is one that likes a chase. One that likes to watch his prey squirm.

 _For someone who talked so much about politeness, he sure likes to play with his food,_ Will thinks.

"You don't want me to make this difficult for you, my dear. And I can," the Alpha smirks. Will swallows. The primal part of him that wanted this Alpha, despite what he knows, hisses in alarm. This is not someone he wants to cross. 

_Fuck it,_ he thinks again, drawing blood.

It happens so fast he can't even cry out in shock. One moment he has a knife to the Alpha's neck, the next his back is slamming into a tree, the knife is clattering to the ground, his wrist is being twisted cruelly in the Alpha's grip while a forearm is pressed into his neck.

"I-is this 'difficult'?" he chokes out, scrambling for breath. The Alpha smiles wider, and Will's reminded of demons from the horror movies he used to have nightmares about as a kid. 

"You'll find out soon, lovely boy," he hears, before everything goes black.

* * *

Hannibal looks down at the naked omega cradled in his arms and smiles to himself. He's tempted to bite him now, maybe mate him just like this, while he's unconscious. But he wants to see his eyes when it happens, so he waits. Never let it be said that Hannibal isn’t patient.

He scents the omega, wondering at how light the other man is, something in him enjoying it, though it also tugs at another part of him that wants to make sure the omega is full and sated all hours of the day.

No matter. The omega will be following his plans, eating his food, bearing his cubs soon enough.

* * *

When Will wakes, it's with a jolt. He's smacked with the unfamiliarity of the situation—no nest, no familiar scents, only virile, threatening Alpha all around. 

Omegas don't like change. They like stability, comfort, steadiness. He doesn't even notice the low whine he lets out.

He blocks out the little beads of slick that slide down his thighs as he tries to sit up, realizing there's a collar around his throat, pressing down on his scent glands. It's not a choke collar, like he would've guessed. It's metal, studded with tiny jewels that kiss his skin.

"You're awake."

Will starts, whipping his head to look at the Alpha.

"I think introductions are in order. Hannibal Lecter. Nice to meet you, Will Graham."

Will's breath quickens. Lecter must’ve gone through his discarded clothes, or taken him back to the house….However he ended up here, Will knows it’s never a good sign, when they tell you their names.

There are two options: either he’s not getting out of here, or he’s not getting out of here Alive. He doesn’t know why his knees knock, wondering in an abstract, almost coquettish way, which it is, as if he isn’t contemplating his own future demise.

It’s not smart in these situations to rile up your captor, either. But while Will isn’t dumb, he’s angry, and scared. So he does what he usually does when he’s angry and scared—he analyzes. 

"Narcissist." That much is obvious.

"No one knows what you are. You take pride in your instincts, but don’t give into them. A perfectionist, with control issues. No family."

Will looks around the room.

"You've been doing this for a long time. No. Not this. Something else. This is new. This is a surprise for you, too."

Finally he looks the Alpha in the eye.

"So what is it about me?"

Hannibal’s eye twitches, just for a moment. “Your scent was difficult to avoid. Far be it from me to not help an omega in need of a strong Alpha.”

Will can't help it—he laughs.

"Oh is that what you are? A traditionalist? Just another Alpha who thinks it's their job to make an omega kneel?" He sneers.

"I encounter dozens of you every day. Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t find you that interesting."

“Dozens,” Hannibal says evenly. “Then it should be no problem for you to understand that true traditionalists do not negotiate. If you don’t comply, I will take away a small part of you—many parts, if necessary, until you do.”

Despite himself, the threat sends chills down Will's spine. Maybe he should just shut his mouth, before he loses his tongue.

"Must be hard," he says instead, "mistaking compliance for respect. Can't get anyone to both see you for what you are and love you back, so you resort to brute force. Typical."

“There is an art to what I do,” Hannibal says, thumbing Will’s chin. “It’s hardly brute force. And it’s much more effective. By year’s end, you will be grateful to sit at my feet, grateful to bear my pups.”

Will is touch-starved. Neglected. His preferred solitary lifestyle is at odds with his very nature, and he'd resigned himself to living that way a long time ago. He's at a disadvantage, and he knows. But if there's anything he can say, it's that he's stubborn. 

"Fuck you," he says. And spits in Hannibal's face.

Hannibal closes his eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath. His face remains calm, but his scent is like thunder.

“I will sew your mouth shut if you do that again. You will eat through a nasogastric tube,” Hannibal says, and flicks open an elegant knife he draws from his pocket. “But first, I’ll cut out your tongue.” He grabs Will’s jaw, grip bruising.

Will twists out of his grip using a move he'd learned in an omega defense class, and leaps forward. His teeth bite into Hannibal's neck—not in the mating gland, no. Around his jugular. His jaw clamps down, and he holds on for dear life. 

And screams when Hannibal’s free hand presses down on his nape, pain radiating down his spine, teeth bloody as he pulls back, mouth open instinctively.

His hands fly up, tugging at the collar. There's something wrong with it—being scruffed has _never_ felt like this before. He scrambles back, sirens blaring in his brain. He gives Hannibal a weak growl, teeth still stained with blood.

The Alpha has taken precautions. He’s not going to call this bastard by name, he’s not going to give in. “W-whaddid you d-nnnnn—do t-to me?”

"It's simple biology, Will. The pressure points used to gentle omegas, when stimulated in the right way and in the right places, are designed to induce submission. It only hurts if you resist."

Will wants to resist, but holy Christ that had fucking hurt, made his guts twist, his inner omega whimpering at displeasing Alpha enough to be touched like that.

He manages a weak glare, but even that seems to send a sharp pang down his spine, so he drops his gaze immediately, whimpering.

Saliva drips from his mouth, and his tongue feels heavy. He can’t even fight when Alpha scrapes the sharp knife against the surface of it, a single neat line down the center that brings tears to his eyes. He won’t be able to swallow without feeling it.

"Nngh," he tries to twist away, and the Alpha tuts at him. He doesn't even realize he's crying until the Alpha wipes away his tears.

"Shhh...poor thing, it's all right. So used to being alone. Always making things harder on yourself. Don't worry, I'll make things right."

Hannibal makes a note to himself to get antiseptic mouthwash that will be gentle on the omega’s tongue. Too much pain will turn his poor boy against him. He needs dependency, not the omega praying for death by the month’s end.

He strokes the omega's lower back, running firm fingers down his spine. The omega shivers, the scent of slick explodes in the air.

So responsive.

"That's it. Just like that," he croons, and he watches as the omega's eyes droop in pleasure, feels the way he arches beneath his hand.

Will is wet enough to drip, the soft, muted sound of it making Hannibal bare his teeth. It would be remiss of him to not indulge something so sweetly rare as this snarling, angel-faced creature.

"Nnnn..."

With every breath, Will's body acclimates itself with Hannibal's scent.

"Nnnn...n-no..."

The poor thing doesn't even know what he wants. So used to denying his body…

But the solution is elegantly simple. Once he gets a knot in him, he'll understand.

Will struggles sluggishly, his rational mind fighting against the numbing weight pressing in on him on all sides.

_He can’t—but—_

Hannibal is watching him like a cat watches a mouse it’s about to devour, just petting small circles over his sensitive hole.

“A-Alpha.” 

“Hush, darling, just open up that pretty hole for me—you’re so pink inside, omega, I took a peek while I was washing you.”

Will's brain begins to fizzle out. He feels himself relaxing, thighs falling open. He can't remember the last time he's felt this relaxed, warm.

 _But he needs—he needs to—_

The Alpha rubs their cheeks together, purring. Scenting him.

He can't remember. Does it matter anyway...?

Hannibal can’t resist a smile as the pretty omega says, mindless, “Alpha, I cant—Please, I need, more fingers please, Alpha.”

Will's mind is on fire, his skin electric. He squirms, whining, bucking his hips.

"Please, oh please—"

"Don't worry, sweet thing. I'll give you much more than my fingers. I'd never neglect you by giving you less than you deserve."

His cock is distending the front of his pants—an almost comically large bulge—and he strokes the heel of his hand against himself, against his half-blown knot. It will be even more painful for Will to take it, but it will prove that the omega is something to keep if he does.

As though he could read Hannibal's mind, Will drops his head back, extending the long, pretty line of his neck.

"Please, Alpha. I need it. I want it. _Please."_

“What do you need, sweet boy?” Hannibal says, voice low and rough. He undoes his belt, unzips his trousers and jerks himself beneath the material, but doesn’t move to go any further.

Will nearly cries. _W-why won’t Alpha give him his cock?_ Was Will doing something wrong?

Saliva fills his mouth as the scent of his Alpha's arousal hits him.

"I, I need—"

_He needs—_

"I... I need... Alpha..."

"You'll need to be more specific, dear. You can do it."

Will's eyes furrow as he tries to think past the haze.

"I need... to be good for you... Alpha."

“Specifics of what that entails, sweetheart,” Hannibal says, gripping his knot as he sees Will’s arousal-dumb face, the omega trying to parse his words.

This time the omega really does cry. Big, fat tears and hiccups, chest hitching with sobs.

"Have I been bad?" he asks.

Hannibal tsks. “No,” he says, thumbing Will’s tears away. “You must ask for what you want, and ask politely.” 

There will be times when he will withhold pleasure from Will, but now is not one of them. Not in order to cement the beginnings of a bond.

Will wants to scream. _Whatever you want,_ he doesn't say. _Just do something._

He's already wet, hole clenching desperately around Hannibal's fingers. What else does the Alpha need?

Finally, the dam breaks.

"Knot," he mewls. "Please, Alpha. Knot me. _Breed me. Bond me_."

“Breed you,” Hannibal smiles, knowing if he wanted to, he could shove his whole fist inside the desperate omega without stopping. “Such a needy little slut.”

Will is quickly tumbling his way towards a full-blown heat. If he doesn't get something substantial in him soon he'll... He'll...

He growls and bears down, as though daring Hannibal to leave him empty.

"Knot. Mine. _Now.”_

If it isn’t given to him soon, he'll take it himself.

Hannibal grabs him by the chin. “Don’t think, omega. Just feel. You ask nicely, or you’ll be left with nothing but your own company.”

Will bares his teeth, but remains silent. He's run by instinct now, with only the singular goal of being filled on the forefront of his mind.

“On your back, my darling,” Hannibal says, pulling his hand from Will’s body so quickly Will’s hole clenches tight around him, trying to chase the loss. His slick is on Alpha’s hand, he thinks, as Hannibal arranges his thighs, wet fingers sticking to Will’s skin

Finally. _Finally._

Will lets his hands rest, open, by his head. Showing his compliance, his lack of resistance.

When the head of his Alpha's cock nudges against his hole his entire body goes lax, melting. 

It's big. _Thick._

Exactly what he needs, what he's been craving...

“You’re going to have to take my knot as well, pup, don’t forget that,” Hannibal says, shoving his hips forward. Will squeals as the extra thickness nudges against his already stuffed rim.

Will can barely think around the fullness inside of him. 

It's _incredible_.

Hannibal kneads at his nape, pressing into the collar, and Will purrs this time, relaxing into the comforting touch.

“ _Alpha_.” 

A small gasp, little omegan keen. Hannibal snaps his hips forward, experimental. His knot catches, and does not go further than Will’s rim. Spreading Will’s ass, he purrs. 

“You’re too tight for my knot, omega.”

Will whines in discontent, squirming.

"Please," he begs, not knowing quite what he's begging for.

Hannibal reaches down and begins to rub at where they're joined.

"I'll have to stretch you out more if you're to take my knot, sweet thing..."

“Please! Y-your fist!”

Will blanches as he realizes, peripherally, that he’s just begged aloud for his Alpha’s hand.

 _His Alpha._ Oh, God—

Before Will can get his bearings, Hannibal is pulling out and then tucking in his thumb, and then— 

Oh— _oh—_

Will's jaw drops open silently as he's stretched wide, warm insides fluttering around Hannibal's strong hand.

Hannibal considers for a moment, how far he wants to go. Will’s channel is receptive to him, the smell of pre-heat thick in the air. Someday, he may be able to guide half his forearm or more into his new omega, and the thought brings an odd sort of pride.

As he considers, he twists his hand, spreading his fingers. Will screams, a little punched-out noise, eyes blank and pink mouth parting sweetly as he cries out for his Alpha. 

Hannibal plays with him, teasing his rim, thrusting his hand in and out, furling and unfurling his fingers until an endless stream of slick drips from Will's reddened and abused hole. Until Will is exhausted, lying limp beneath him.

He whimpers, trying to keep his eyes open, watching Hannibal take his cock in hand. He salivates at the sight of his knot, only half expanded. This’ll fill him up, plug him full of Alpha’s seed.

Hannibal sinks into him, and this time, his knot squeezes past the tight sphincter. He leans forward to capture the omega's lips with his own, and he can feel the deep, satisfied purr that Will lets out reverberating inside his chest. He purrs back. Rocking his hips, he gives a satisfied grunt as Will reaches for him, tentatively scratching nails down his back.

The scent of slick and sweat and arousal fills the air. Hannibal relishes it, the feeling of the omega clinging around him, the taste of his mouth, of the blood still leaking from his tongue.

 _What a thing to find in the woods,_ he thinks, smiling as with one last exhausted gasp, Will passes out, warm and helpless in his arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> come find us on twitter [@penseeart](https://twitter.com/penseeart) and [@nise_kazura](https://twitter.com/nise_kazura) :)


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